


Safe House

by liquidpyramids



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I tag as I go, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Torture, Violence, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidpyramids/pseuds/liquidpyramids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We need your help.” </p><p>Of course they did. They always did. It appeared as if Steve Rogers only came knocking on her door when the world around them was burning and threatening to completely fall apart. </p><p>Steve and what is left of the Avengers use her as their safe house. It isn't the first time, but it's the first time the Captain brings someone to her home who could bring destruction along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return to Safety

**Author's Note:**

> Decided it was finally time to use this Account, so here I am and there you are.

“We need your help.” 

Of course they did. They always did. It appeared as if Steve Rogers only came knocking on her door when the world around them was burning and threatening to completely fall apart. It wasn't like she minded much, after all she was spending the rest of her time wandering the empty halls of her way-too-big-for-one-person house that she had inherited, yet one damn call asking her how she was doing every now and then sure wouldn't kill the Captain, right? 

Instead of throwing that in his face, however, she simply nodded before ushering the group of six into her home, not closing the door before making sure that nobody had followed them here. It wasn't much of a necessity seeing as she did have a rather high-tech security system that would pick up on possible intruders with a whole lot more accuracy than she ever could, yet a certain paranoia was left in her brain that told her she had to at least scan the driveway once. If there was someone here she missed the system would take care of them, and possibly, maybe, turn them into swiss cheese – but one more look at the absolute nothingness in the driveway did reassure her. Well, at least a bit. 

When she had locked the doors and drawn the blinds the others weren't in her sight anymore - not that she was surprised. Steve knew the drill by now, so he had gestured for the tired group trailing behind him to follow him into the living area, seating them on the four couches that stood in the middle of an otherwise weirdly empty room. But then again, who had time for fancy decoration in this day and age anyway? As long as there was somewhat comfortable sitting space, a television, or in her case five ones in different sizes, all set up beside each other, and WiFi nothing else was needed. 

“I'm sorry for barging into your home like this again, but we wouldn't be here if it weren't important. It seems you know what's going on already.” Steve began as he pointed at the variety of televisions in front of him, every single one of them displaying news channels in different languages that all showed the same thing – the fight between the group that was previously known as the Avengers. 

“I know some if it, however I would very much like to know how in the hell this happened. I go to bed and the world is all smiles and wake up to a lot more destruction than I would like to see on a lazy Sunday morning. So pray tell, Steve, what the fuck is going on out there?” she replied, rubbing the last bit of sleep from her eyes, the sleep she had been planning to get a whole lot more of today. 

“As much as I'd like to tell you everything, I can't. Knowing it would put you in even more danger than you are already in by opening your doors to us. What I can tell you, though, is that over 170 governments have decided to make us enemies of their states – and above them all the Avengers that are not here with us. The location we've been hiding in up until today has been compromised so we needed another place to stay until we can come up with something, anything, to turn things back around. I would completely understand if this is too much for you, though. And in that case we'd leave immediately. I've put you into a whole lot more danger than I am comfortable with by just coming here as it is, sheltering us will only make it worse.”

The Captain sighed, actually sighed, before burying his face in his hands – and for the first time since they had arrived at her door step she realised just how utterly destroyed they all looked. They all still showed obvious signs of a previous battle, some of them bruised from top to bottom, others just looking so much more tired than any human should be able to look. And in that moment she realised that there was no way in hell she could turn them down, even if every goddamn voice in her head yelled at her to kick them out right now.  
“Remember what I told you when you crashed here the first time all beaten and bloodied? I told you to sit your ass on the couch and let me tend to your wounds. Even then I knew that this alone put me in massive danger, but fuck me if I didn't think it worth it. This is bigger, this is way bigger than that, but I promised you that if you need me I'll support you with everything I have – even if it's just with this ridiculously big house my parents left me and that I can't use alone anyway. So go clean yourselves up and pick your rooms. There's two bedrooms on the first floor and three on the second. I'm afraid two of you will have to bunk because, as much as I'm into helping you guys, I'm sure as hell not giving up my bedroom.” 

And with that she rose from the her space on the floor and left without another word, not even bothering to answer the questions of the incredibly confused team she had left behind. Right now there were more important things to do. Another part of the drill Steve and her had worked out the first time he had invited himself into her home. The security cameras had to be checked, the ammo for the guns possibly restocked and all locks to the house changed immediately. There was time for talking later, right now the safety of everyone in the house was more important. 

Disappearing into the kitchen she soon revealed a hidden keyboard under one of the windows, typing in safety code after safety code to get into the main system. Whoever had thought of this goddamn system of having to type in eight different codes, she thought, deserved to be shot in the face.  
As she typed away she once again wondered how she had even become Captain America's safe house, for she had never even seen, let alone met him, before. One day he was just there, panting and sweating, blood seemingly running from every hole in his body. And there seemed to be a whole lot more holes in his body than a normal human should have. 

And since that day it just happened again and again and again. Sometimes, although still in denial about it, she woke up in the middle of the night imagining the sound of the bell ringing. If that was because she was terrified of it happening or she wanted it to happen was a question she was not yet ready to ask herself. What she knew, though, was that whenever it happened her body and mind went on autopilot, repeating the same routine every single time. Let him in – have him explain what the fuck happened – check the security systems – let him explain what the fuck happened again. 

He had never brought somebody else, though. Usually he would turn up in the middle of the night all alone, refusing to speak about what happened for a couple of hours before finally opening up to her – sometimes even wider than she was comfortable with. And now there were six of them. Five of whom she had never met before. And as she tried to recall all of their faces her eyes widened and a simple question arose in her mind. 

Had Steve Rogers brought the Winter Soldier into her home?!


	2. Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning to settle in the team is starting to relax around their host - that is, all except one.

For a second she was too shell-shocked to even move, blinking her eyes rapidly in a desperate attempt to bring back the face of the Winter Soldier she had seen on television months ago. To her dismay the pictures returned to her rather fast, without a doubt identifying the man in her living room as none other than who she believed him to be. Fuck. 

Now, the rational part of her was trying its hardest to convince her that if Steve had brought him here he would pose no threat to her, the irrational part however screamed bloody murder. Why, for the love of god, would he bring this man here after he had almost succeeded in killing Steve not too long ago?   
Taking a deep breath she typed the exit code into the control panel, making the keyboard disappear back into nothingness. Change of plans – the talking definitely couldn't wait this time.

“Steve Rogers! Hallway! Now!” she yelled, entering the living room for only a split second before leaving again. “You know full well that you have my support. You know that I usually don't ask questions when you come here, but what the fuck is HE doing here?” she hissed the very second the Captain stepped into the hallway, rather surprised by the sudden change of mood his friend showed. 

“He? What do you – Oh. Listen, it's.. It's complicated. I told you who he is the last time I was here, I told you what happened to him. But .. I've found him again. I've found him again and he's on his way to recovery. It's hard to believe, I know, but we can trust him. I would never endanger the team, endanger you, by bringing him here if I wouldn't be absolutely certain that it's safe. He's still not who he used to be, he's far from it, actually. But he's changed and I need to hide him from what is left of HYDRA so they won't get his hands back on him. Ever.”

In reply his opposite just sighed, combing through her hair with her left hand. This was already harder than the last time, and the last time she constantly feared that both SHIELD and HYDRA agents could storm her house at any minute.   
“Steve..” she finally breathed out, uncertainty still written across her face, “just.. I don't doubt what you're saying but just tell me one thing now. And I want no ifs and buts, I want a clear answer. Is the Wint- is Bucky dangerous?” 

The answer shot out of the Captain quicker than she could ever have expected – however, it wasn't the one she had expected. “Yes. I think that under certain circumstances he can still be dangerous, the brainwashing and training is still present in his mind, but I would never have brought him here if I didn't believe that I alone wouldn't be able to handle him should it come to the worst.” 

Well, that was unexpected. Unexpected enough to render the young woman entirely speechless. So for a moment she just stared unblinking, trying to process what Rogers had just told her.   
“Okay”, she finally began, “I appreciate your honesty and I believe you. But you also know the value this house has to me, the memories connected to it, so should it ever come to him rampaging through it I won't wait a second to send you all on your way. Sorry. And now go and tell your team I'll have dinner ready by seven.” 

And with that she disappeared again, leaving a weakly smiling Captain America behind. For now he had succeeded, for now they were safe – but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that they weren't practically stomping on ice with spiked shoes. 

As dinner time rolled around one could almost believe that this wasn't a group of people declared criminals by basically the entire world sitting at this table, with most of them cracking jokes and shoving more food into their mouths than their host had ever seen. That was if it weren't for them still looking incredibly worn out and still somewhat sceptical of the person that had so easily invited them into their home with open arms. She was sure that they believed she didn't notice the looks sent her way every now and then, the hushed voices that were always abruptly stopped by Rogers clearing his throat and sending some weird compliment her way, and also how one of them didn't even so much as look at the food on the table. 

“Buck, on the way here you were constantly complaining how hungry you are. Now there's a whole table full of amazing food in front of you and you don't even try it? C'mon, dig in!”

The dark-haired male grunted in response, letting out a barely audible “'mnothungry'nymore”, before shoving his plate to the middle of the table in what could only be described as a somewhat childish act of protest. 

“Buck, you're being rude. At least try something!” Rogers pushed again, now seemingly getting impatient with his rather broody friend. Not that she blamed him, she did know how easily he was embarrassed.  
“Steve, it's alright really. If he's not hungry, he's not hungry. It happens. Bucky – if I'm even allowed to call you that, if it's just that nothing on this table really appeals to you and you don't want to say it in front of anyone you're more than welcome to come to me after dinner and I'll see if there's anything we can find that suits your taste. That sound good?” she offered him the brightest smile she could muster up, hoping to god that nobody realised just how strained it was. 

He didn't even look at her. There was no form of acknowledgement whatsoever before he rose from his chair and disappeared up the stairs to the bedroom he had chosen.   
Steve sent an apologetic smile her way that she merely waved off, saying something along the line of Bucky only having to settle in before he can finally relax and eat with them, before plastering yet another smile on her face, “So, anyone up for dessert?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two has arrived! The third one shall follow tomorrow or tuesday.


	3. Haunted

Yelling. 

Crying. 

Blood. 

Silence. 

With a gasp she shot out of bed, her left hand immediately reaching for the gun strapped to the underside of her bed. 

Dream. 

Nightmare.

Memories. 

Fuck. 

She hadn't had one of those in months. Slowly placing the Glock back where it belonged she reached for the light switch instead, her trembling hands barely missing it three times. This shouldn't even happen to her anymore. This hadn't happened in such a long time. Why now? Why – Oh. Of course. Steve was to blame for this, well – technically.  
Wiping the sweat from her forehead she swung her legs out of bed, deciding that three hours of sleep would have to do for one night. If I try again now, she thought, it's only going to get worse.  
At least this time she hadn't seen their desperate faces. Their hands reaching out to her, their last breaths wasted to tell her to run. Why did they have to leave this house? Why did they have to goddamn leave?  
“Never speak to anyone”, they said, “don't ever trust another human-being. They won't rest until they've got you too. Run. RUN.” 

Shaking her head she started walking in the direction of the door, steadying herself in its frame before trekking on. Of all the things that could've happened. Of all the things she could've dreamt. It had to be them. It had to be now. She couldn't decide whether talking about it or getting absolutely shit-faced was the right action to take now, but as she came to a halt in front of the Captain's door she decided that maybe, just maybe, getting drunk on the first night her 'guests' joined her in her home would not exactly leave a positive impression. 

“Hey Steve, are you still up? Can we talk?” she whispered as she lightly knocked on the door of his standard bedroom, awaiting a response only to be greeted by nothing other than complete and utter silence.  
Well, then. No need to wake him now. Maybe getting drunk wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
But before she even had the chance to say 'Alcohol' a heavily accented female voice stopped her dead in her tracks, the figure of Wanda Maximoff clearly visible on the other side of the hall.  
“Steve has left his room fifteen minutes ago. He must have gone to James' room again. Your conversation with him will have to wait – I would not go there now if I were you.” 

There was so much screaming.  
Even through the closed door, hell, even when she was on the stairs, she could hear the desperate yelling that seemed so eerily familiar. Was that what Steve had briefly warned her about when he had come to her before going to sleep? The 'slight nightly disturbances' that were to be expected from now on? God, she hoped not. With her own nightmares having woken her up almost every night up until a couple of months ago, she hoped that now she wouldn't have to suffer through somebody else's. And judging by just how tortured the voice inside the room appeared, she certainly would not wish this fate even upon her worst enemy. 

“Steve?” she muttered lightly as she reached for the door, slowly pushing it open to reveal the Captain standing in Barnes' dimly-lit bedroom, seemingly completely overwhelmed by the situation at hand.  
Rogers instantly turned on his heels, a look of utter despair on his face. “I can't get him to wake up. I've been trying for 15 minutes. Even tried shaking him awake out of desperation. Didn't end so well for me”, he sighed, showing her the bruise that was already forming on his forearm. “What do I do? I just – he usually wakes up after a while.” 

“Step aside, Rogers.”  
Straightening her back she gently pushed past the protesting Captain, crouching down beside the now thrashing Barnes. “You've got to listen to my voice” she spoke softly, calmly, “your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends call you Bucky. You were born in Brooklyn and spent most of your days alongside either your family or your best friend, Steven Grant Rogers. When you were in your twenties the war broke out. You joined the 107th. During a mission against an enemy greater than anyone could have anticipated you fell to what your friends believed to be your death. But you survived - you survived and were taken by the enemy. What they did to you over decades is something no regular human could imagine. You were used, tortured, forced to do things I cannot, nor want to, think of”, at that he began lashing out again, alarming the Captain who was still stood behind them. 

“You're making it worse! Why would you think telling him all this while he's having nightmares about it would help? Christ, he's getting worse!” he almost yelled, stepping closer to the bed in order to stop her there and then. He stopped, however, when the young woman's arm shot out to block him.  
Turning her head for only a split-second she sent an almost venomous look in the Captain's direction, muttering something incomprehensible before returning her full attention to the task at hand. 

“But you fought. You fought for the freedom that was so cruelly taken from you and now you have regained it. And you will never fall back into the enemy's hands, there are people, especially one of them, who would give everything to keep you as far away from them as is humanly possible. You're in a safe house. A safe house in, quite frankly, the middle of nowhere. A house that cannot be found, owned by a person that doesn't exist. No one can find you here. You're safe. And I need you to wake up now before your best buddy has a heart attack.” 

At that she rose from the floor, looking at the man who'd gone completely still in his bed. Now if all would go according to plan, if she had calculated it all right, a simple action should do to wake him up. Reaching for his flesh hand with trembling hands she gave it a gentle squeeze, her gaze falling upon Barnes' eyes slowly blinking open. There he was again – confused, scared and rather surprised to see her standing above him of all the people in this house. But he did not even get the chance to ask how this came to be, nor could he ask her how she knew what had to be done in order to wake him up. Hell, there wasn't even enough time for him to utter a thank you as she turned on her heels and shoved the Captain out of her way, quietly stating one more thing before exiting the bedroom. 

“I always know what I do, Rogers. And I sure as hell know some shit about nightmares. Barnes, welcome back in the land of the living. And now if you'll excuse me – I need a coffee. And shots.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter - More Bucky! And also some background info on our character.   
> In the next chapter there'll be even more info - And an actual (gasp!) conversation between the two.   
> So stay tuned!


End file.
